


Home Tonight

by faultyfriendofyours



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: M/M, McLennon, One Shot, Pub AU, mclennon fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22330375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faultyfriendofyours/pseuds/faultyfriendofyours
Summary: Paul is out drinking at a pub in the mid-winter month when he strikes up a conversation with a handsome lad that plays the guitar quite strangely.
Relationships: John Lennon/Paul McCartney
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Home Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> I'm taking you home tonight  
> I wanna make sure that you're alright  
> Looks like a cold, cold wind is blowing in  
> I'm taking you home tonight  
> \- Home Tonight by Paul McCartney

The pub was fogged with a heavy layer of cigarette smoke and comforting warmth that Paul knew would contrast starkly with the world outside the secured doors. He enjoyed the warmth while he was in it, sat at the bar with a tall glass of beer in his hand and music floating through the thick air.

He’d been nursing his drink the whole night, too transfixed by the performance on stage to remember the drink at all. Up on the small stage was a band of Teddy Boys singing rock n roll covers. It was the music that had first interested him but once he laid eyes on the lead singer, he was done for. The handsome lad with combed up hair and slicked back sides sang his heart out on every song, guitar in hand. Paul noticed, keenly, the lack of a sixth string in his playing.

Their eyes had met quite a few times since the band went up and now it seemed they were on their last song. Paul didn’t make for the group like some birds did when they descended from the stage. He stayed at the bar, keeping a casual eye out and making sure the seats to either side of him were available if the lad sought him out.

“This seat taken?”

He readied himself to defend the seat. “Actua-“ his eyes turned to meet the handsome singer who was even more handsome up close. His hand was gesturing to the seat beside Paul and Paul couldn’t help but notice how pretty his hands were. “Actually, it’s free for the taking.” Paul watched him carefully as he sat and ordered a cheap beer. “What’s your name, then?”

“John Lennon.” He gave a confident smirk as the beer was slid into his hand, the foam on top sloshing out and onto the bar.

“You’re band gave a good performance up there.” Paul eyed the guitar slung across John’s back. “Noticed you played guitar a bit funny.”

John necked back a good half of his beer in one go. “That the only reason you were staring so long?” Paul’s cheeks flushed with a light pink. John’s smirk turned mischievous at the reaction. “What’s funny about my playing?” His little smirk and small mannerisms were like a song a dance Paul had never known.

He shook the fog from his brain. The atmosphere must be getting to him. “Your guitar’s only got five strings, right?”

“Aye,” John nodded, pulling the guitar off his back and into his arms. “Only ever learned the banjo.” He took another swig of his beer and Paul copied, finishing more beer in one go than in the past half hour.

“I’m not too bad of a guitar player myself. Could teach ye a few cords with all six strings sometime.” He watched carefully for John’s reaction but he just stared into Paul’s eyes, as if lost.

Something sparked in the lad's eye all of a sudden and his features were alight. “Why not right now?” He nudged Paul’s beer hand up, tilting back the amber liquid until it had disappeared between Paul’s lips. He finished his own just as quickly. “ ‘Nother round for the two of us. On my tab,” he called to the bartender.

“Now?” Paul’s head buzzed from the sudden influx of alcohol.

“Got an acoustic in the back with all the strings.”

Once the beer arrived, John handed Paul his glass and grabbed hold of his free hand as they slipped through the crowded dance floor. The fog of cigarette smoke cleared as John led Paul through a side door. Two blokes that had been on stage with John were now in front of Paul, messing with different bits of equipment and readying to leave. They both said short hellos as John grabbed up an acoustic guitar and led Paul to an old, worn couch. He discarded his electric guitar in the corner and sat with reasonable space for two very straight men between them.

“Well?” John raised a questioning brow. “Show me something.”

Paul smiled, looking to the two busied band members before going back to John. His eyes were intense and interested. “Well, once you’ve added this cord, you’ve got an option to go higher in your sound.” He played a tune that highlighted his point, watching carefully as the other band members left the room. “You see?” An unexplainable tension heightened as the door shut behind them. They were alone. Finally.

“Lemme have at it.” John moved in closer, taking the guitar from Paul’s hands. Their fingers grazed one another, sending shivers up Paul’s spine. He felt electrified.

It was just the two of them in the small room as John tried out the new cord with what he already knew. No interruptions. They traded the guitar back and forth, getting closer and closer with the passing minutes. Their beers had been forgotten on the floor, too intent on each other to care for intoxication of any other kind.

After a while, the guitar was discarded along with the beer. John sat with one leg brought up to the couch, his knee resting on Paul’s thigh as they talked.

“You’re an interesting one, I’ll give you that.” John was leaning in close to Paul, his arm stretched on the back of the couch right behind Paul’s shoulders.

“Hmm?” The statement had come out of nowhere. “Should that be good?”

John nodded slowly and thoughtfully, not taking his eyes from Paul. “Too bad I’ve got to leave.”

The lad didn’t seem to be making to leave. “Got to, have you?” Paul didn’t want to admit it but he would rather stay in that room all night. Stay with John all night.

“That’s right.” He leaned in closer, his eyes moving between Paul’s eyes and his lips as if to ask for permission.

An electrifying buzz, unlike anything alcohol could give him, pulled at Paul’s heart as John’s warm breath grazed his lips like a ghost's kiss. “Is it?” The words came out in a whisper before he closed the small gap between them.

Their lips met and parted. Both boy's eyes were alight with excitement as they kissed again and again until their lips stayed together. John snaked an arm to Paul’s back, moving his own legs to pull him closer. Paul obliged, his legs ending up across John’s lap, his hand at the nape of John’s neck. With hot and heavy breathes in between, the boys stayed connected at the lips, their bodies getting closer and closer.

John pulled away from the kiss, taking in a shaky breath. “I’ve really got to go home.” He gave another peck at Paul’s lips, Paul falling into it, wanting more. He smiled, gently moving Paul’s legs to the side.

Paul’s eyes reluctantly looked to the clock. It was ten past two. He sighed, looking up to John as he got up to get his coat and guitar. “I should be off too. Late, isn’t it?”

John held out his hand. “I’ll walk you out.” Paul happily took the beautiful hand that belonged to the handsome lad. As they entered into the main component of the pub, surrounded by smoke and warmth, John asked, “You’ve got a coat, haven’t you.”

A realization hit Paul. His coat. He left his coat at the bar. That was so long ago. Someone could have stolen it twenty times over.

“Hold on a moment.” Paul veered off from John only to find his coat was nowhere to be found. Paul searched frantically, asking the bartender if they’d seen it. No luck. It was gone. It was below freezing out. All he had was a thin black jumper, nothing even underneath.

“Alright, love?” John was at his side, peering around the stool with Paul.

He wanted nothing more than to never leave the warmth of the pub. “Lost my coat. Guess I’ll be going home in this.”

John’s mouth dropped open, looking over the severe lack of warm clothing. “How far you got?”

Paul drug a hand down his face, slowly making his way to the door as John followed. “Three blocks for the bus stop and four to get home.” He could already feel the freezing cold awaiting him.

“No.” He looked over to John, who had stopped in his tracks. “I’m taking you home tonight.”

“What?” Paul must have misheard. “I-I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“It’s below freezing tonight! I’m only a block away.”

Paul laughed. “You don’t even know my name and you’re inviting me over for a night?”

John blushed but wasn’t deterred. “What’s your name, then?”

“Paul McCartney.” He shook John’s hand with an air of sarcasm in the gesture.

“Now will you come to my place? I’d like to know you didn’t freeze to death.”

Paul bit down on his lip, continuing his walk to the door. This is what he wanted. Why was he fighting it? Two birds with one stone: not freezing and having a night with this boy.

He pushed the door open and immediately regretted his choice. Cold air that would cut through the heaviest of winter coats sliced him to the core. John was as his side, eyeing him.

“I’m not gonna make ye go. But it’s this way if you’d like.” John pointed down the street, opposite of the nearest bus stop.

His body shivering and his teeth chattering, Paul latched onto John’s arm for more reasons than warmth. “Aye. I’d very much like that.”

Maybe the missing coat was destiny. It had got him what he wanted: A whole night with John Lennon.


End file.
